Knowledge to die for . . .

    If all this was connected, Nils had no idea what it meant. But, he knew it was dangerous for everyone involved. As he turned the last corner before home, a chill night wind beat against his face. He paused for a moment. For some reason, the public lighting along Asier Street was turned off. The moon hadn’t risen over the city’s battlements yet, so the road ahead of him was pitch black since his neighbors had long since gone to bed. Ahead of him, on Tor Avenue, he saw a single constable walking towards him, Nils smiled to himself and stepped toward the darkness. Only noticing at the last moment, movement in the shadows in front of him. Three bolts from heavy crossbows shot out of the dark, slamming into his chest in a tight cluster, throwing the tall man off his feet backward onto Tor Avenue. The shadows of the crossbowman moved quickly towards him, meaning to collect the body and disappear into the night, but they were stopped by the shrill, penetrating, shriek of the constable’s whistle. The constable rounded the corner and dropped to one knee, aiming his crossbow into the dark street, continuing to blow his whistle through clenched teeth. The assassins retreated into the dark street and disappeared.